Chapter Two — Khalid Al-Faheed
1714 Words
Khalid Al-Faheed had never understood why people thought marriage was an emergency.
At thirty-five, he had never been married.
Not once.
And as far as Khalid was concerned, there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.
He had a company to run.
A family to protect.
Thousands of employees depending on decisions he made every day.
Contracts worth millions.
Oil fields.
Petroleum investments.
International partnerships.
Government negotiations.
Shipping agreements.
Refineries.
And a father who had once been the strongest man Khalid knew but now spent most of his days recovering from a stroke.
There was no room for marriage.
At least, that was what Khalid told himself.
He sat behind the enormous desk in his office at the headquarters of Al-Faheed Corporation, his eyes fixed on the documents spread before him.
“Move the meeting with the Saudi investors to Thursday.”
His executive assistant, Omar, nodded.
“Thursday at ten?”
“Nine.”
“They requested ten.”
“Then they can come at nine.”
Omar smiled slightly.
“Understood.”
Khalid signed the final document.
“Anything else?”
“Your mother called.”
Khalid’s pen stopped.
He slowly looked up.
“Again?”
“Three times.”
Khalid sighed.
“What does she want?”
Omar hesitated.
“She didn’t say.”
Khalid already knew.
Marriage.
It was always marriage.
“Tell her I’m in a meeting.”
“But you’re not.”
“I will be in one.”
Omar nodded.
“Understood.”
The moment the door closed, Khalid leaned back in his chair.
He closed his eyes.
His mother was relentless.
She had been trying to marry him off for years.
It wasn’t as though Khalid didn’t understand why.
He was the eldest son.
The heir.
The man currently running the Al-Faheed empire.
His younger brother was married.
His younger sister was married.
And somehow, Khalid was the only unmarried child left in the family.
His mother considered that a personal failure.
Khalid considered it a scheduling issue.
He picked up another document.
Marriage could wait.
It always could.
⸻
The Al-Faheed family home was enormous.
It had belonged to Khalid’s grandfather before passing to his father, and over the years, the family had expanded it into something closer to a private estate.
Khalid rarely had time to appreciate it.
Most mornings, he left before breakfast.
Most evenings, he returned long after everyone else had gone to bed.
But tonight, his mother had made sure he couldn’t escape.
The moment Khalid walked into the dining room, he knew something was wrong.
His younger brother, Zayd Al-Faheed, was sitting at the table with his wife, Lina.
His younger sister, Mariam Al-Faheed, sat beside her husband, Tariq.
His father was resting in his usual chair, his health improving slowly.
And his mother was sitting at the head of the table.
Waiting.
Khalid stopped.
His mother smiled.
“You’re home.”
“Apparently.”
Zayd laughed.
Mariam covered her smile.
Their mother frowned.
“Sit down.”
“I have work.”
“No.”
Khalid looked at her.
“No?”
“You are sitting down.”
“Mother—”
“Sit.”
Khalid stared at her for several seconds.
Then he pulled out a chair.
Zayd leaned toward him.
“You should probably just listen.”
Khalid gave him a warning look.
Zayd immediately became interested in his food.
Their mother folded her hands.
“I have arranged another meeting.”
Khalid’s expression became blank.
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard me.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Khalid.”
“No.”
His mother looked offended.
“She comes from a very good family.”
“No.”
“She is educated.”
“No.”
“She is beautiful.”
“No.”
“She is religious.”
Khalid sighed.
“Mother.”
“She is twenty-nine.”
“No.”
“She is a doctor.”
Khalid paused.
His mother immediately noticed.
“A neurologist.”
Khalid looked at her.
His mother smiled triumphantly.
“See?”
“You’ve already researched her?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because I am your mother.”
Khalid rubbed his forehead.
“I am not meeting her.”
His mother’s smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have time.”
“You never have time.”
“I have work.”
“You always have work.”
“Because I run the company.”
“You are not married to the company.”
Zayd coughed.
Mariam tried desperately not to laugh.
Khalid looked at his mother.
“I have responsibilities.”
“So do married people.”
“Mother.”
“You are thirty-five.”
“I know my age.”
“Your brother is married.”
Khalid glanced at Zayd.
Zayd wisely remained silent.
“Your sister is married.”
Mariam smiled apologetically.
“Sorry.”
Khalid ignored her.
His mother continued.
“Everyone around you is moving forward with their lives, and you are sitting in your office twelve hours a day.”
“Fourteen.”
His mother stared at him.
“That is not helping your argument.”
Khalid sighed.
“I don’t have a problem with marriage.”
“Then marry.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is extremely simple.”
She pointed toward him.
“You say you don’t want this woman.”
Another point.
“You say you don’t want that woman.”
Another.
“You say you’re busy.”
Another.
“You say you don’t have time.”
She threw her hands up.
“Khalid, I don’t think you are looking for a wife. I think you are looking for reasons not to have one.”
Khalid didn’t answer.
Because maybe she was right.
His father, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke.
“Your mother has a point.”
Khalid looked toward him.
“Baba.”
His father smiled faintly.
“When I was your age, I already had you.”
“I know.”
“And when you were born, I had no idea how my life would change.”
Khalid smiled slightly.
His father had always been the calm one.
Even now, after the stroke had taken away some of his strength, there was still authority in his voice.
“You have spent years taking care of this family,” his father continued. “After my illness, you carried responsibilities that should have been shared among all of us.”
Khalid glanced toward his siblings.
Zayd lowered his eyes.
Mariam smiled softly.
“But you cannot spend your entire life working.”
“I don’t.”
His mother stared at him.
Everyone at the table stared at him.
Khalid corrected himself.
“I don’t only work.”
Zayd finally laughed.
His mother shook her head.
“This is exactly what I mean.”
Khalid picked up his glass.
His mother leaned forward.
“Just meet her.”
“No.”
“One dinner.”
“No.”
“Tea.”
“No.”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Mother.”
“Twenty.”
Khalid looked at her.
She stared back.
“Ten minutes.”
Zayd burst out laughing.
Khalid glared at him.
“You find this funny?”
“A little.”
“Be quiet.”
His mother smiled.
“So you’ll meet her?”
“No.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Khalid!”
He stood.
“I have work.”
“You just came home!”
“I need to review a contract.”
“You can review it tomorrow.”
“No.”
His mother stared at him as he walked away.
“Khalid Al-Faheed!”
He stopped.
He didn’t turn around.
“You are my biggest headache.”
Khalid smiled faintly.
“Goodnight, Mother.”
Then he walked away.
⸻
Later that night, Khalid stood alone in his study.
The city glittered beyond the windows.
He loosened his tie and looked down at the documents on his desk.
His mother’s words kept replaying in his head.
You are not looking for a wife. You are looking for reasons not to have one.
Khalid frowned.
He hated when his mother was right.
He had never been against marriage.
He simply had never met anyone who made him want to rearrange his life for them.
And Khalid wasn’t the kind of man who did things halfway.
If he married, it would be because he wanted to.
Not because his mother pressured him.
Not because society expected it.
Not because he was thirty-five.
Not because his younger siblings were already married.
And certainly not because someone thought his family name needed another marriage alliance.
His phone vibrated.
Khalid glanced at it.
A message from his mother.
He opened it.
Mother: The girl’s name is karima Suliman .
Khalid stared at the name.
Another message arrived.
Mother: Neurologist. Twenty-nine. Master’s degree. Very religious. Very educated. Her family is respectable.
He frowned.
Another message.
Mother: Just meet her.
Khalid locked his phone.
He wasn’t interested.
He returned to his documents.
Five minutes later, his phone vibrated again.
He ignored it.
Another vibration.
He ignored that too.
Then another.
Finally, with an irritated sigh, Khalid picked it up.
His mother’s final message was short.
Mother: Please, Khalid. Just once.
He stared at those three words.
For some reason, they felt different.
Not demanding.
Not angry.
Just pleading.
Khalid leaned back.
His eyes returned to the name.
Karim Suliman .
He knew nothing about her.
And he certainly wasn’t promising anything.
But perhaps…
Just perhaps…
One meeting wouldn’t kill him.
He opened his mother’s conversation.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Then he typed two words.
Khalid: Fine.**
He sent it.
Almost immediately, the three dots appeared.
His mother was typing.
Then came her reply.
Mother: Alhamdulillah!
Khalid stared at the message.
He shook his head.
He had a feeling he had just made a terrible mistake.
And somewhere across the city, karima Suliman was still trying to recover from the seventh man who had walked away from her.
Neither of them knew that their families were about to bring them into the same room.
And neither of them knew that this time…
The story might be very different.
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